


Fair Sun, Envious Moon

by Humanities_Handbag



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Bets, Dorky Kings, F/M, Lot's of dorky things, Snarky Fairies, Swordplay, sunrise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5082844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humanities_Handbag/pseuds/Humanities_Handbag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in Which a Bet is Made, a Moon is Pondered and a Sun is Watched</p><p>In which Marianne shows Bog his first sunrise and he is quite taken with it. Though, really, it may very well be his guide that he's most taken with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fair Sun, Envious Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Named after one of my favorite lines from Romeo and Juliet;
> 
> Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,  
> Who is already sick and pale with grief  
> That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she

He supposed it had all began with a conversation earlier in the week. Maybe it was on a Monday. Or perhaps it had been a Tuesday. And, looking back, the Bog King couldn’t have told you if it had been morning or evening or what have you. But he did remember the conversation itself.

“You almost never come to the Light Kingdom.” Marianne stated, the tiniest bit of resentment slithering behind the tease.

He looked up from where he was lounging against a moss bed. He’d promised to show her new corners of the Dark Forest and she’d come with bated breath, practically buzzing at the chance of exploration. It was something he so dearly loved about her. That she was willing to poke her head around corners and see what others would not. Too many of the Fairy Folk were too terrified to tip-toe up to the border, let alone pass through the thorny entrance. And even if they had, he doubted they’d see more than a trap- a void of light and hope and much else snapped shut with all the chaos of venus plants jaws.

Not that he didn’t intend for it to look that way. One of his small but impactful defenses was outward appearance.

That just became significantly more difficult when outward appearance was dismissed. More difficult and… pleasant.

Marianne was the one who made it that way. And he wasn’t complaining.

That day he’d woken up feeling particularly loved and had decided to bring her to some of the more appealing sights the forest had to offer. She argued that all the sights were appealing (including the King that acted as her guide) but he dismissed that with a fluttering hand and a badly hidden blush. “Just you wait,” he’d told her, hardly keeping the grin from splitting his face. The day turned out as expected. She’d practically bounced to and fro at the alluring displays of foliage, the skimming light of trees against crumbling past villages taken over by vines and small red blooms that aromatized the ghostly village with cloves and spices. Her favorite, the spot they now resided in for the time, was a tiny stream that ran its way through the middle of the forest. Usually hidden under brushes it was easy to miss unless you knew where the break in covering was. A tiny circlet of a spot filled with light, chirping birds and the rattling of centipedes making their ways over the dips in land.

“Sorry, what was that, love?”

She paused where she floated, her wings bobbing about with smooth efficiency, feet just skimming over the cool water. “I said, you never visit the Light Kingdom. Well… almost never. Except to, yunno, pick me up or steal my sister.”

He scowled at her, the reference piercing just where she wanted it to, and shifted in his place to better glare at her from a more comfortable position. “First of all, I didn’t steal your sister. I…  _borrowed_  her. Which is entirely different.” She opened her mouth to argue and he quickly continued, “and I thought you  _liked_  the Dark Forest.”

“First of all,” Marianne mimicked him with a cool stare, “you  _kidnapped_  my sister. Not that I’m complaining or anything, I mean, I didn’t have to deal with her love potioned up. Ain’t that right my little  _Sugar Pie Honey Bunch_.”

“ _Stop_.”

“But that doesn’t matter! That’s not what I’m  _saying_.” Her foot skimmed one of the rocks below her and she landed with a light plop against the ripple smoothed platform. “I do like the Dark Forest. It’s  _amazing_.” Bog’s thoughts went from gloomy to prideful in a moments time and her smirk told him that she’d spotted his happy flush. He ducked his head.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. It’s one of my favorite places, Bog. You  _know_  that.” He did. But it still felt nice to hear. “I just think… I mean you’ve showed me all these amazing things. Wouldn’t it be nice to, I dunno, see what the Light Fields have to offer?”

“What the Light Fields have to offer…” she must have missed his tone because she kept going cheerfully forward.

“Yeah! You act as a tour guide all the time. And it’s great. It is. But I could show you around. Show you all that stuff that you wouldn’t be able to see if we didn’t have this… this thing going on. I mean, you never traveled out before we met, right? So there’s tons of stuff to see. All the… you know… magical strange stuff.” He tilted his head at her before looking around. Wasn’t this  _magical_  and  _strange_?

“Uh… I suppose…”

Her wings drooped and she found a spot on the streams bottom to stare at, face growing hot. “No please, don’t jump so high. Your enthusiasm is drowning me.”

“Oh! No, no, that’s not-” he rubbed the back of his neck, casting her a quick grin. “I mean, I would. I just don’t…” he chuckled, “I mean,  _honestly_ Marianne, how much is there to see in the Light Kingdom?” She blinked at him. He blinked at her. “Uh…  _Marianne_?”

“Are you serious?”

“Uh…”

“What do you mean how much is there to see? It’s a Kingdom. It’s not a two by four patch of grass!”

“I mean… uh… what I meant was-”

“We actually have stuff there, you know. Lot’s of stuff. More than your… than your stupid forest.”

“Oi! Watch it!” He pointed his staff at her, scowling. “You happen to  _like_  this stupid forest.”

“Yeah. I do. I love it, Bog. But why aren’t I allowed to show you why you can also love the Light Fields.”

“Because, Marianne, _my dearest_ ,” and he gave her a smile that reminded her that she’d already punched him in the face once before, and then proceeded to egg her on into replaying that moment a few times in the back of her eyes for strictly therapeutic reasons. “the Light Fields are exactly that. A field. And to my knowledge of land, a field is a large open space with flowers, sky and one or two pretty faces for decoration.” She seethed at him. “A forest on the other hand, specifically mine if I may be so humble-”

“You may not.”

He ignored her with a wave. “It’s more of a mystery. More to discover. More to explore. Just  _more_  in general, actually. Not like a  _field_.”

“Hey, my fields have more.”

“Oh  _please_! Spare me your-” Bog was cut off with a sword tip in front of his face. He crossed his eyes to stare at it before lazily dragging his eyes to it’s owner, a picture of smug anger, if such a thing could exist.

“I’ll have you know,” she cautioned, eyes flickering to his staff, daring him to swat her away, “that my Kingdom can  _astound_  and  _mesmerize_  you.”

“Oh really,” he drawled, far too relaxed for a man with a sword in his face. As insurance she gave his nose a slight poke with the sharp tip. He growled at her, pushing the blade away with his hand. “And what makes you think that, _Tough Girl_?”

“I just know, that’s how.” She went to poke him in the chest with her sword and had to blink away sparks when his staff seared the edge of the steel with purpose.

“I don’t believe it.”

“Fine!” Marianne leapt to the air and he followed, his teeth in an upturned snarl, brow low and heavy and malicious. “Just know that I’m going to get you to see something! And if I do manage-”

“If you manage,” he swung at her and she skittered back through the air, her own grin purposeful. “I’ll admit it. I’ll say that your boring fields are as good as my forest.”

“ _And_ …”

He puckered his lips, staff falling out of place a moment in thought. “I’ll…” the amber shone as it leveled with her chest, “ _I’ll come to your Summer Festival_.”

Her jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I  _would_.”

Her own purpled lips puckered. She ho’d. She hummed. The fist holding her sword fell against her hip, blade just over her left foot. “Okay…” she finally said. He leered, holding out his hand to shake on the deal but she cut him off with the sword again. “Two extra conditions.”

“Let’s hear them, Tough Girl.”

“If I can  _astound_  and  _mesmerize_  you with something from my Kingdom you have to come to the Summer Ball. That’s what you’re saying, right?”

“Correct.”

“And you’ll admit my side is just as good?”

“More or less.”

She snorted, but let that one drop. “Fine. But, my conditions.” And now her leer was no less evil and Bog, though he really shouldn’t have with his reputation on the line, wondered if he could be any less attracted to her at that moment. “I have to wear Royal Garb. My dad is making me.”  _Oh no_. “And it’s a pretty fancy shindig.”  _She wouldn’t_. “Which means that all it’s attendants have to be dressed accordingly-”

“ _Absolutely not_.”

“Oh why not.”

He glared at her where she was suspended in the air and curled his lip. “Because you know how much I bloody hate that crown.”

“Oooh, someone’s in a bad mood.”

“Ha ha, laugh at the King’s misery, why don’t you.” She sheathed her sword, snorting.

“I will, thanks. And I didn’t say the crown, buddy.” He brightened for the merest of moments, but that was quickly shattered when she added, her pearly whites far too cheeky for their own good, “At least, not  _just_  the crown.”

“ _No_.”

“I want the crown,” she ticked off with her fingers, pretending to ignore but completely basking in his growing rage. “and I also want the cape,  _and don’t you dare tell me there isn’t one_. Your mother told me that you have one and, from what she said, you look just  _darling_  in it. The scepter, but you’ve got that already, and the procession.” He was fuming. She was glowing. “And I get one dance.” He growled. “Do you agree to these terms?”

“ _Never_.”

“Aw! What’s the matter! The  _Almighty Bog King’s_  afraid of a little Fairy beating him!”

“I am not afraid,” he snarled. “I’m just…”

“ _What_? A coward.”  _Oooh… that hit hard._  He swung at her once more with his staff and she spun backwards, her laughter bouncing off the trees, dripping down the bark like something hot and molten.

“Fine,  _fairy_ , I’ll agree to your damned terms.” She stuck out her tongue, flipping down to shake his hand. He retracted his own and she tilted her head in wonder. “But, if you don’t  _dazzle_ , if you fail to so much as make me smile, and if you cannot as you put it,  _astound_ and _mesmerize_  then you’re coming to council with me.”

Marianne shrugged. “Okay, fine, I can-”

“Oh no,” Bog mocked, clucking his tongue. “These are very  _formal_  events, Princess.”

It wasn’t hard to see the game he was playing and the fairy immediately sank lower. “Aw,  _c’mon_  Bog, _seriously_?”

“I’d better see your pretty little crown and your most darling gown,  _Princess_. And please, don’t hold back for little old me. Any color will do. Especially if you’ve got any pink. Maybe some baby’s breath blue around.” She blanched. He preened.

“ _There’s no way_ …”

“Then there’s no deal.”

There was a standoff. A brief one, to be fair, but a standoff nonetheless. The water from below them bubbled and gurgled. A few birds far above in the trees twitted to each other from across the expanse of trees. The wind rustled her hair before going to rattle the trees. She sighed, stuck out her hand.

“Deal.” He took her hand, so much larger, his claws scraping the inside of her wrist.

“Done. Now, about that spar…”

They were all smiles the rest of the day. But neither could ignore the tense moments, eyes flickering at each other, simply wondering if maybe astound and mesmerize weren’t exactly the best words and quickly, with small shudders, wondering about the condition of long lost royal attire and how quickly it could be mended… just in case.

And that was how a single conversation, of which he had very little recollection of exact wording and too much recollection on the threat behind it, began a long process of wondering the when’s, how’s, where’s and why’s.

The next few days every greeting began with a barb.

* * *

“Find anything astounding yet,” he teased her at the gate with a poke to her side. She wiggled away, swatting at him.

“Not yet.” She stated evenly.

* * *

The next day had been much the same.

“ _Still searching for the astounding_?” he hissed, staff clashing with her sword in fierce battle.

“Like I’m going to tell  _you_.” she huffed, sweat rolling down her collar. 

* * *

And the day after that, and the day after that and the day after that, until the bet was near forgotten and the strange greeting was a thing of affection.

“Still searching for something astounding?” He grabbed her from the air and she fell into his arms with a yelp. She didn’t have much of a chance to rebuttal before his arms were winding around her, giving her one of the hugs she so sorely craved. And she fell into it.

“I’ve been thinking…”

“No calling it off, darling,” he chided into her neck. “S’not the Goblin way to forget things.”

“No, no, that’s not what I was saying.” She gave him a final squeeze before backing away. He let go with some reluctance, watching her kick out her feet in place, shyly glancing up at him from under generous lashes. “I’m thinking… I’m going to keep it a surprise. That’s okay, right? If I just kind of… surprise you with it.”

“Uh…” he fiddled with his staff, finally shrugging. “I mean… I suppose.”

She flushed with pleasure, wings helping her gain some height to pepper his lips. “Fantastic!” She beamed. “ _Fantastic_. Because I  _found_  something.”

Well, he hadn’t expected that. 

In fact, after all the time passing he hadn’t expected much of anything. Perhaps a white flag of surrender. Though that in itself was foolish. Both of them would have rather died than have done that. 

“You  _found_ something.” His tone must have mirrored his thoughts because she rose one eyebrow, smirking.

“Yeah,” a quick kiss. “I did.”

“O-oh did, you?” Being snarky was just so much more difficult when someone had stolen your breath. He cleared his throat. “Well… where is it?”

“Uh uh. Surprise, remember?”

“Then when-”

“Surprise.”

“And how-”

“ _Surprise_.”

“So it’s all going to be one big-”

“Surprise?” she nodded. “Yes. So be ready. At anytime. At all. Got it?”

“Uh… Okay… I suppose that’s fine…”

“Good.” He didn’t have much of a chance to ask any other questions before he was dragged through the gate into his forest, the promises of an adventure reeling from him lips and her hand warm on his.

And for a time it was forgotten.

Until it was finally time.

* * *

The night air was electric and the currents it passed through his carapace near sent his heart into a kind of shock that warmed him. The forest smelled of honey and lilacs and something else so subtle that he couldn’t trace it. But it did it’s part to soothe him. 

The moonlight above him was perfect, and the shadow it cast of him burned into the trees with all the height of a monarch and the proud stature of a lover.

And then she was there.

 _He_  was there and  _she_  was there and the slates of moonlights bursting in through the trees made her look like a goddess. He took her in his arms and she batted those brown eyes up at him, gold and smooth under the light of new night.

He said something to her, perhaps it was to tell her she was beautiful -she was- or that he couldn’t imagine anything without her -he couldn’t- or, more likely, it was an admission of love -they hadn’t, yet, and it bothered him that he could never work up the courage to do so unless the dream world had him by it’s design- and she said something back.

And then they were kissing. And her clever little hands were everywhere and he was melting.

“Bog,” she said his name like honey on her lips. Sweet and resilient. He sighed against them, feeling her squared teeth bite gently down onto his lip. “Bog…”

“Mmmm…” said Bog. It was all he could really say, what with his spine currently acting as her personal nail file.

“ _Bog_ …” whispered Marianne again, and he stole another kiss to try and take his name from her breath. “You should…”

“Mmhmm,” agreed Bog, pressing into her neck, leaving hot kisses down the veins. “I’ll get to it, love,” he said back, quiet as a ghost. “Just you and me…” he promised. “Just you.  _Only you_.”

“Bog.”

“ _Marianne_.”

“Bog, you lazy oaf.”

He stalled. Well… that wasn’t right. He was doing his best here, thank you very much, and in his own personal opinion he was being quite the romantic. Lazy oaf indeed? I think not.

“Marianne, I’ll have you know-” he began, ready to hold his own. She didn’t let him finish, which was disappointing. His speech would have brought tears to the eyes.

“Get up.” She pushed away from him, crossing her arms indignantly. “Get up, Bog,” she said again and she gestured with her hands. “Now.”

“I… I don’t…  _can’t we just go back to the kissing thing_?”

“Now.”

And then he was no longer holding his love in his arms and there was no moonlight and he was feeling quite under-kissed as far as kissing went. Instead there was a wall of inky black, the smell of moss beneath him and the cool chirping of crickets outside of his windows. He sighed. Well… all good things, he supposed.

He was about to return to sleep, hopefully back to that dream if he was lucky, when someone poked him.

“Bog! Get up!” Then, “You lazy oaf!”

Oh good. So then at least it hadn’t been Dream him being lazy. Which meant that Dream Bog was quite the charmer and in no ways lazy when it came to the satisfaction of Dream Marianne. He blinked again, trying to find Awake Marianne’s face through the veil of sleep and the darkness that held his room tightly.

“Marianne… wha are you doin’ here, love?” he asked, searching her out. Or at least he tried to ask it. It came out more like a gurgle.

“Hey,” she chuckled. Leaning over she kissed him again and he leaned into it. _There she was_. Where sight eluded him, touch did not, and it did wonders in helping him navigate from his sleeping state. A flash of his dream whispered through his chest and he smiled against her lips until she pulled away too soon after. “Morning.”

“Is it?” He yawned. His voice, while not quite up to the task, was at least working again. “What time-”

“A little after four.” He blinked at her then. Well… at least some things were beginning to make sense. The cool air, still carrying night along with it for the ride, the chorus of nocturn in the forests heart, and the room was still dark, the sun not yet peeking through his shuttered windows. Not that much sun ever got through the forest anyway. It did it’s part to keep the atmosphere and maintain it’s image. But no matter what, at least there would have been light. Which meant that it truly was early.  _Too early_. He frowned at her silhouette standing above him and thought, even though the pitch, that he could see her smile apologetically. “Sorry. But I had to come get you early.”

“You did?” It wasn’t so much of a question as it was griping.

“Yeah.” She kissed him again. Quick and final. “Now come on. Get up! Your wasting daylight and I have to show you something.”

“It’s  _four_.”

“Brilliant observation. But I told you that, not the other way around. Now come o- _aah_!  _Bog stop_!” She was doing her best to keep her voice down -there were others living in the castle besides him after all- but it became increasingly difficult when he grabbed her and pulled her down to the bed, clutching at her like some sort of stuffed doll being taken over by weeds and vines and other sorts of titchy things and not a very awake, very aware, very annoyed Fairy with a sword. “Bog, what are you doing!”

“Sleeping,” he murmured. “I was having a brilliant dream before you came here and I intend to return to it. Now go to bed.”

“I came here to get you. That’s why I’m here. We had a  _deal_  remember?” _He’d rather not, thanks. Not at bloody four in the morning._  “Now come on.” He shut his eyes. “Up an’ atem.” He pretended to snore. “I’m not getting any younger he- _mph_!.” He covered her mouth with his hand. She glared. Then, in a fit of juvenile anger, she retaliated. His eyes popped open and he snatched his arm away with a wail.

“ _You licked me_!”

“You wouldn’t get up!” She crossed her arms. “Dire measures had to be taken.”

“Well I’m up now, aren’t I!”

“Good. My evil plan is working.” She gasped when he fought back, rubbing his generous jaw over her face, smirking when he heard her intake of breath turn into a near yelp. “ _Seriously_ , Bog! You’re so  _goddamn scratchy_!”

“Yes, well,” he sniffed, giving her face an extra nuzzle with said scratchiness to which he received a well earned ‘yeep!’ for his efforts, “that’s what you get for waking me up so early before I can even shave.”

There was a pause, and for a moment he thought himself victorious until she added, with a hint of curiosity that he knew too well on the same level of persistence as a leech, “Y _ou shave!_ ”

He sighed. There really wasn’t going to be any more sleep for him, was there? “I was having a  _brilliant_  dream,” he complained once more into her hair. “You were there.”

“Oh, was I now.”

“Yes. You were.” He sighed mournfully, and her hair bent under the gentle ministrations. “And now I’ll never know how it ends.”

“Well…” she felt him press her lips to his scratchy jaw, “perhaps later we can find out together. Sound good?”

She wasn’t implying that. He  _knew_  she wasn’t implying that. But he was suddenly so grateful for the darkness around them, for had it not been smothering them so lovingly, she would have seen his face turn red enough to explode. 

“Uh… so…” he coughed. “Your bringing me to the surprise, are you?”

“Mmhmm…” Marianne rose to kneel beside him, hands pressing down on the shell of his chest. “I’m going to win, by the way.”

“It’s never good to go in this cocky, love,” he pushed her off to sit on the edge of his bed, rubbing his face wearily with the heels of his hands. “It makes for sore losers.” 

Her arms wound around him, her body weighing itself gloriously between his wings. “I wouldn’t be to sure about that.”

He smiled. “Let me shave?”

“Quickly.” She kissed the growing thorns. “And then it’s off to claim my prize. You  _did_  get your robe fixed, didn’t you?” There was a yelp when he his wings buzzed out and threw her backwards onto the soft moss. “ _Are you kidding me, Bog!”_

His room was promptly filled with muffled laughter and the very distinct sound of moss being beaned at someone’s head.

* * *

It took him until they’d reached the entrance to the forest to wake up. In all honestly, it might have taken him longer, had Marianne’s energy not been at a startling high. But it was. Incredibly so. Too much for a simple stroll at four in the morning, that was for sure. And the more he took that into account -her enthusiasm, her smile, her sheer anxiety in the wait- the more he felt his own center begin to coil.

It was still dark by the time they reached the Primroses. He gave them an extra glare from where they stood, towering over the both of them with their aromatic petals basking in the glow of the still present moon, sparkling against particles in the air like a certain blue fairy whose name was not to be mentioned. She tugged him past.

“C’mon, Bog,” she rolled her eyes, caution in every spare syllable. “You stopped the cutting, remember?”

“Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be destroyed…” he grumbled. She gave him a look, clouded under the little lights. “ _What_. You cannot truly blame me. _They’re_  the ones that cause trouble.”

“Yeah, well sometimes running strait into fate is exactly what causes all these issues in the first place.”

“This isn’t fate.” She stretched her wings and he followed suit, ready to take off over the tall grasses. “It’s flowers. There’s a difference.”

“Not for Primroses there isn’t.” She may have had a point. “Now come on. We’re headed up there, and I want to get there as soon as possible.” He looked to where she was pointing. Over the towers of the small town, just visible from the flickering lights and the glows of torches in the walkways, he could see the tall grove of trees settled in the center, doing their part to shelter what they could of a small useless patch of field.

He snorted. “You’re showing me a tree?”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing his hand and giving a tug. He stared down at it a moment, wondering if it was simply him imagining the shivers running through the fingers. “Come on…” then for good measure. “Idiot…” He chased her all the way, both of them hushing one another when their peals of laughter got too loud and doing nothing really to stop it at all.

They did eventually make it in one piece with the Castle and it’s Kingdom, for the most part, still sound in their beds, unaware of the Dark Forest visitor hovering nearby. Bog landed first, stuttering against the top of the tree and doing his best to catch his balance on the limbs. Trees were meant to be canopies, weren’t they? Not places to stand on top of. 

“Here,” she interrupted his thoughts, dragging him to the center. Apparently he’d misjudged her. She’d set up blankets. Planning had not gone beyond her and he suddenly was back into his own mind, wondering just how long she’d been up finding the perfect spot.

“Marianne…”

She swiveled on her heel quick enough to startle him, eyes wide. “Yes?”

“Oh… uh, nothing. Nothing, important. But… I mean… I was just wondering if-”

“I did my best here, Bog, don’t ruin this for me.”

“Yes, of course, but Marianne-”

“We’ve got at least two hours,” she cut him off, hands wringing. He squinted at her, doing his best to pick up on ever minute twitch. “I brought breakfast, if you’re hungry,” she babbled.  _Babbling_.  _That was one of hers._  “And… and also blankets. They aren’t really… you know…  _Goblin_  moss… and that stuff is great.” She was worrying her lip on top of her fingers. “I did what I could,” she shrugged. Feigning a lack of care. 

“Marianne,” he tasted her name, drawing out a hand as if to catch her. “Are you… alright?”

“I’m fine! I’m… yeah, I’m fine.”

_Liar._

She was not fine. He knew what she was after a second glance, and for a blip of time it confused him to no end.

She was  _nervous_. 

Wasn’t that usually  _his_  thing.

I mean, they both got nervous. They were both stuttering fools when affection was involved. But this was something else. Nerves that were somehow familiar and so far off, and he wondered briefly where he’d seen them before.

* * *

_Let’s go stretch our wings…_

_Good idea! Good idea… yes… uh…_ yes

_Try thinking of this as an adventure…_

_Tucking a flower behind an ear, smiling when permission was given, when claws just scraped through hair and not a flinch was seen_.

* * *

Oh….

 _Oh Gods_ …

He was an  _idiot_. Wasn’t he?

In all the competition, the betting, the thrum of excitement that came with wagers, he’d forgotten his own nerves. How terrifying it was to introduce someone to a new place, a new thing. Marianne may have become part of the Dark Forest, but this was her home. It ran through her blood. Sharing it with him was sharing something intimate and secret, and the fear that dislike was soon to occur was as good as saying he had no care for her.

His wings twitched irritably, and somewhere in the back of his mind he could almost hear a malevolent Tiny Voice doing its best to reach out and slap him.

“Marianne?”

“You keep on saying my name,” she gave him a shaky smile. “If I didn’t know any better, Bog, I’d think you were in l-” Her entire being paused when the Bog King of the Dark Forest stepped forward and enveloped her in a tight hug. She stood there, rooted to the spot, confused and excited and oh so appreciative. And after a beat her arms followed suit and she leaned into him, head falling with a dull noise against his chest. 

“Thank you for taking me here,” he muttered into her hair. “And if you’re worried… don’t be. I’ll love whatever you have to show me.”

“What makes you think I’m nervous?” Her chuckle shook. He snorted.

“Your face is a map.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Bad for you, good for me.”

“Bad then.” He laughed. 

“Sure. Bad.” Then, “We can call it off if you want. We could just see what you want to show me. That’s all. I promise I won’t make you wear a gown to council or anything. And you couldn’t lose. Not really. I can’t wait to see whatever it is.”

Her entire body seemed to deflate just the slightest after that, limps going slack and heart beating a steady tune in her ribs. “No. Can’t do that. It’s not the Goblin way.”

“Too true.”

“Besides, as long as you like it a  _little_  I’m fine with it. I’ll still count that as a loss for me. Remember, I need to  _astound_  and  _mesmerize_.”

“You do indeed.“

“Besides, you’ve never seen me in a dress.”

“And you’ve never seen me in a cape.”

“Do you look as darling as your mother says?”

“ _Marianne!_ ”

After that everything became lighter. Her nerves, while still standing her on edge, were relaxed to a point where she could finally breathe. Not that she’d complain about that to him. But he could tell. And he was oddly proud that he could tell. 

They sat together on the blankets, both resting with one on their laps to ward away the last dregs of evening chill that clung like nettles to the breeze. She revealed, sometime after settling down, that she had brought a picnic basket filled with things she’d thought they’d both like and he’d teased her endlessly for her meager cooking skills and how much she cared about him to try that hard. 

That had turned into an all out shoving match which had had the two of them laughing hard enough their sides had near split. 

And after that, they had simply sat and waited. 

“What are we waiting for again?” He’d asked her at least five times in the span of the hour, and each time she replied with,

“Wait. It’s a surprise.”

So he went back to watching.

The Fairy Kingdom was quiet so early, smokestacks just beginning to rise against the sky, still blue as a raven’s feathers. A fog clutched to the ground, heavy and languid, slithering round houses and through windows, searching for prey, or perhaps just a place to finally sleep, it’s demeanor cruel and ancient. The floral smell was still heady and overpowering, but he was beginning to block it out. Or perhaps, just maybe -and he’d never say so, not in a million years- it wasn’t all that bad. 

The flowers that sat by him, tiny white things barely larger than one of his vicious claws, were simple. Their smell was faint, but present. Honey and straw and sap and fresh turned soil; something so distinctly sweet and flowery, but with confusing hints of forest that stuck to it with stubborn thorned fists. He tried to remember where he’d smelled them before and realized with some fondness that whenever he found his nose scraping against her neck or in her hair there were flashes of those tiny white lace. He plucked one out, bringing with it it’s kin, hanging tight by small green stalks, thin as spider’s silk. These were flowers meant to be crushed but somehow, as he twirled it between two fingers, that only incited a deeper need to protect.

It had been far too long since he’d wanted to protect anything. And he was finding lately more than ever that that instinct had been coming back full force.

She shuffled towards him, pressing their sides together and the warmth that spread off of her was delicious. 

“Still nothing,  _Tough Girl_ ,” he whispered into the cool air.

“Just wait,” she told him. “Just wait.”

It would be another hour past that, and he was more than ready to tease her again, tell her that if watching the array of candles being lit in windows was her idea of mesmerizing then perhaps they needed another trip to the glow-worm caves. But she stopped him when, apparently, what she wanted to show him was there.

She squeezed his hand. “Look.”

He did. 

It wasn’t much of anything, really. The horizon, so dark against the flat fields, was beginning to lighten into a billowy blue, the tips of clouds shuddering in the changes and becoming mere shadows on the backdrop. 

“It’s the sun.” He stated clearly. “The suns coming up.”

“Mmhmm…” Marianne bobbed her head, and her hair hit his shoulder. “It is.”

“That’s what you’re showing me?” Another nod. “You do know I’ve seen the sun before, right? I’ve told you time and time again that we  _do_  get sunlight in the forest.”

“But you’ve never seen a sunrise.”

“Does that matter?”

She glanced up at him, and in the fresh blueness beginning to steeple, her sharpened features became softer, skin velvet and eyes liquid ice. “Yes. It does, rather.”

He shrugged then, leaning back. “Right then.  _Astound_  and  _mesmerize_  me, Princess.”

“I will.” And not a moment later, Bog just starting to relax against the leaves below him, she grabbed his arm in a vice and shook him lightly. “Look!”

“I am, looking, Marianne. Nothing’s really changing. It’s just the…”

His words died in his throat when the approach of the sun was startlingly upon them, and for the first time in his life, the Bog King saw the birth of a land.

The sun broke through the sky. It smashed through the glass like a fairy through windows, cutting and suffering with writhing accuracy and quivering borders. And when it did, it bled. Pooling over with beautiful tragedy, it pressed against the sky with warlike accuracy and cut, slashed, lacerated with the viciousness of a predator and the silence of the surgical. The darkness shirked away, slithering out of sight, the stars bathing within it waiting for fate to take them with all the boldness of a Herculean lord.

And as the darkness burned, broke, brewed it began to breathe. It stopped struggling. Stopped moving. Began to ebb and swim, mix and suckle. Before long the first rays of once violent sunshine caressed the darkness and the two sang in their comfort. And the release of pain came forth in a palette of colors that Bog, sitting before it and watching with breath sinking back into shivering lungs, never thought were possible in a mortal veil.

Pinks and oranges and blues and violets, all charging towards the inky quiet, fingers clasped through the receding milky way, claws arching through the new clouds, spreading them into ragged strips while the pastels that followed cooled and soothed and puffed, brushing them over with a frost of lingering night. It was violent. It was calm. It was needy. It was destructive. It was-

Something touched his hand and he nearly jumped until her fingers, smaller than his and oh so different, wound around nobbled, scarred digits. He squeezed her hand, barely looking away, trying to memorize every color out before him. He heard the leaves beside him rustle as she moved closer, getting to her knees so she could bury her face into his neck. He felt her breath warm the skin there and wondered if the colors above him felt like that. “Pretty, right?”

He tried to speak, only managing to make a few strained rumbles in the back of his throat. He felt her chuckle, lips grazing the scales under his ear. He did his best to move, eyes still on the final strains of color still seeping out staining the heavens, and reached around her, pulling her close onto his lap, her hair tucked under his chin. Breathing her in he was reminded of the tiny white flowers still in his hand- fairy and goblin both together, now burned into her person by the light of the sun above them. Warmer and warmer, washing over, folding, wrapping, tying, smothering and breathing. He held her closer, as if he could follow example and warm her as much as the sun was doing for him.

“Still mad at me for waking you up?” she asked in a voice that told him he knew the answer.  _Cheeky minx._

“No,” Bog rumbled, surprised by the softness of his voice.  “ _No_ ,” he breathed again. “ _It’s beautiful_.”

“Yeah,” she looked up at him, and her fingers lightly traced the rough edges of his shoulder plates, creating devilish shadows on the leaves behind them, “it is.” He wondered what she was talking about and had to keep down the sharp flutters when he realized the answer.

 _Yes,_  he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, lingering,  _it really, truly was_.

* * *

Sunshine finally chased away the fog and before long the color had gone with it. They sat together for a few minutes after the final few stars had grumbled away like wise sages in need of a nap. The sky was blue enough to be glass, and from where they stood, so close, he briefly fantasized reaching up and breaking it to helpless pieces and taking one with him. 

Marianne slid off his lap then, and he reluctantly let go with few complaints. She crawled across the treetop and grabbed the blanket, bundling it. “I told you you’d like it,” she told him over her shoulder.

“Yes, yes, ye were right for once.”

“For once?” Marianne glanced over with a knowing smirk.

“Twice?” She threw the blanket at him and he dodged it, a smile splitting his face.

“You’re awful.” Hands on her hips she tilted her chin proudly up. “So?”

“So what?”

“Are you going to admit it, or am I going to have to force it out of you?” She shook one of her tiny fists.

“Oh please. As if this was up to my standards,” but his smile said otherwise, and she knew it.

“What? Mr.  _It’s Beautiful_  suddenly can’t admit he was smitten!”

Bog groaned, heaving one arm dramatically over his brow. “Fine! It was glorious.”

“And….”

“And the… and the Light Fields are just as good.” She smiled triumphantly and he scowled. 

“Did they _astound_  and  _mesmerize_?”

He tapped his chin. “… I haven’t quite decided yet.”

“ _What_!” She twisted in an instant, glaring up at him. “Oh come on! This was awesome! I won this thing!”

“I still get time to decide,  _Princess_.”

“Well, don’t think too hard,  _Almighty Bog King_. You might strain something.”

“Oh hah hah.”

Marianne flashed her teeth at him before clapping her hands together, rubbing the palms in sadistic delight. “Right, well then, we’ve got the rest of the day. What are you thinking.” She crossed her arms. “Quick spar back at the forest?” The sword at her hip got a loving pat, features quirking in challenge. “And then we’ll go look for your cape.”

“Oh but, Marianne, your dress most likely needs  _so_  much more attention!” She snorted, batting at him and he laughed, jumping back, hands raised.

“You know you’re just asking for it.”

“Naturally, Tough Girl.” He turned to retrieve his staff, still lying against the tree top. 

She rolled her eyes and spread out her wings, the sun still behind her, now on a steady climb up into the blue. “Fine. Come on then. Let’s go. There’s nothing else here anyway and I want to get you back before your mother thinks we got married in some super hush-hush black market deal.” He turned, ready to say something brilliantly snappy and stopped.

The first time he’d seen her wings, really seen them, had been through moonlight. The soft lighting had caught the thin paper between veins and cast a familiar pink glow across his face and he remembered wondering how something so dainty, so delicate, so worthy of art could be used to destroy.

Through the sunlight…

Her wings didn’t glow. They screamed. Millions of different shades of colors -blues, purples, pinks, some that had no name, no place. They cast themselves against his scales, brushing, burning, and soothing. And for a moment he had to remind himself how to breathe past questions of  _why in the world she was with him._

Marianne was the sun. She was meant to chase him away with beauty and light and warmth, exploding the darkness and banishing the stars. 

She gave them a few light shudders, warming them in the light and looking plum pleased as she ever could be. A sigh trickled out when she turned at all angles, catching warmth, storing it away.

“Marianne?” Her name was all he could think of saying. 

If she was going to say something, it was cut off when the Bog King leaned down and kissed her. Lightly, just a touch, but enough to feel her freeze under the brush. Her wings shielded them both from the blinding light, instead taking it and twisting it until it covered the Goblin and the Fairy in something otherworldly and ethereal. 

“You win,“ he spoke against her lips. “I am  _astounded_  and  _mesmerized_.” 

He heard her catch her breath before muttering, “You liked the sunrise that much, huh?”

“Something like that.” The flower still in his fingers went behind her ear. He moved back, adjusting it against the brown locks. 

“Let’s go find your cape.”

“Let’s.”

With the sun on their backs they dove happily back into the shade of the forest. It wouldn’t be too long before they were back in the Light Fields. Perhaps they weren’t as dull and boring as he had first thought.

Or… at least one part of them wasn’t. 

 


End file.
